Chapter 46
Lyra
I STAY WITH CAIRN FOR the rest of the Yuletide holiday, helping him pack up everything he owns into wooden boxes and big, solid trunks—which I have no hope in the world of being able to move, heavy as they are.
At night, he makes us meals that put even the castle chefs to shame: chunky potato soup with crunchy rustic bread, vegetable stew with carrots he sends me to the garden to fetch from his cold frames, fire-baked butternut squash, and, of course, my favorite: vanilla-dandelion lattes.
“I like him,” Juniper says to me the evening before Cairn leaves for the Columbine Conservatory.
He’s sitting in his armchair, a book about fungi (yes, fungi) propped open in his lap.
But he fell asleep half an hour ago and has been breathing deeply ever since, head tipped back, eyes softly closed, chest rising and falling rhythmically.
I’m sitting cross-legged on a blanket in front of the fire, practicing my elemental magic—letting flames flicker across my palm, then calling on a fine mist to douse them before sending a warm breeze dancing through the small sitting room.
This coming semester, I want to do better.
I want to show my professors how important my education is to me, and I want Headmistress Moonhart to see how hard I’m trying and how much I appreciate her giving me the chance to fix the mistakes I’ve made.
I don’t just want to pass my classes—I want to excel at them, like Poppy.
Well, I’ll never be as studious and smart as her, but I can still do my best.
Juniper is lying on the blanket beside me, her belly round and full after our big meal of tomato soup and fluffy rolls. I pull my gaze away from Cairn and meet Juniper’s steady gaze. “I do too . . .” I whisper, keeping my voice down so as not to wake him.
Honestly, I more than like him. Every time I look at him, a warm feeling radiates through my chest, and I’ve started to feel like no matter what happens, if I have Cairn by my side, nothing can be that bad.
It gives me an odd sense of safety and calm, something I’ve never felt before, despite Papa and my roommates and all the people in my life who care about me.
The feelings I have toward Cairn are just . . . different. In a good way.
Juniper stretches, then climbs up onto my knee and sits back on her hind legs, twitching her whiskers. “It’s going to be okay, you know.”
My brow furrows a bit. “What is?”
Juniper tips her head toward Cairn. “Him leaving.”
Her words make my stomach pinch. But I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, then offer Juniper a small smile. “I know. I’m still going to miss him though.”
I’ve been dreading him leaving, trying to cherish every moment we have together. And these past few days, I’ve felt so at home.
Now he’s going to leave, but I’m going to be strong, and I’m going to remind myself that him leaving is not the same as him abandoning me. He’s not my mother. But he is helping me heal from the hurt she caused me—or is at least providing me a place where I can do that on my own.
“He’s going to miss you too. But I’ll always be here with you.” Juniper nuzzles her head against my hand, and I uncurl my fingers to scratch her gently beneath the chin. She looks up at me and twitches her whiskers again. “Even if I can’t make lattes.”
Her words make me laugh, and Cairn stirs awake. He blinks his eyes sleepily, then reaches his arms up over his head and yawns.
“Oops,” Juniper says. She hops off my lap, then finds a puddle in the blanket that she can burrow into.
While she does that, I push to my feet, which are clad in a heavy pair of winter socks, and pad across the room to Cairn.
He smiles up at me as I take the book from his lap and set it on the side table.
Then I sink onto his lap, his arms coming around my waist as I wiggle myself into the warmth and security of his firm chest.
“How long was I asleep?” he asks, voice husky from just waking up.
I shrug softly. “Less than an hour. Not long.”
His fingers trace patterns on my thigh where it’s draped over his legs, and I let my eyes close, listening to the beating of his heart.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
“It’s okay.” I cuddle closer to him. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow. You need your sleep.”
He tenses up a bit, his fingers ceasing their movements on my thigh. “Lyra,” he says after a long moment, “are you really okay with this? With me leaving?”
I sit up slowly so I can look into this dark eyes, where the fire behind me is reflected.
“I am. I’m more than okay with it.” Reaching out, I trail my fingertips across his warm brown skin, trace the planes of his cheekbones and the cut of his jaw.
“I’m excited for you. And besides”—a smile curls across my mouth—“I have every intention of coming to visit.”
Now it’s his turn to smile. “How about for Ostara?”
Ostara is roughly three months away, a celebration of the spring equinox.
In a way, that feels like a lifetime, but I know I’ll have my hands full with my studies, and Cairn will need time to settle into his new home and job without me underfoot, distracting him and trying to constantly pull him into bed with me.
After our first time together, I was sore for days, but I’m feeling better now, and as I trail my fingers down his neck and across his chest, low heat begins to build in my belly.
“Ostara sounds good,” I whisper. Leaning forward, I brush my lips softly against his, and beneath me, I feel his cock stir. “I’ll miss you, you know.”
His voice is a deep rumble as he says, “What will you miss?”
A smile tugs on my lips. “Your lattes, definitely.”
He gifts me with a laugh, and the sound is rich and sweet. “That’s all, huh?”
“No.” I reach down beneath our bodies to touch his hardening shaft through the fabric of his trousers. “I’ll miss other parts of you as well.”
One of his brows arches in the corner. “Well, we do have one more night together . . .” Then his gaze flickers with concern. “If you’re feeling okay, I mean.”
Nodding, I wrap my arms around his neck, then press kisses along the column of his throat, his beard tickling my skin. “I am.”
I love how careful he is with me. He always puts my needs before his own, is never selfish or demanding or impatient with me. And that just makes me want to give him more, to give him everything I have.
“Take me to bed,” I say, my breath causing goose bumps to rise along his neck.
I don’t have to tell him twice.
With ease, he wraps one arm around my back and one beneath my knees, then stands from his armchair, holding me like I weigh nothing in his arms.
“If my witch commands,” he says.
“I do!”
Chuckling again, he starts toward the bedroom, and I tell myself to enjoy every one of these last few moments I have with him, because when the sun rises tomorrow morning, he’ll be gone.